


What's a blow job between best buds?

by uglyNicc



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Bromance, Drunk Blow Jobs, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, i guess?, just to be safe as there is alcohol involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 23:56:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16733079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglyNicc/pseuds/uglyNicc
Summary: You read the title, you know what's in here.





	What's a blow job between best buds?

**Author's Note:**

> Started this a while ago and forgot about it, probably should have stayed forgotten lol. Heed the tags as there's some decisions made while drunk, and please note this was just an excuse for some silly gayperion and there's gotta be like a million people who have done this trope way better than I have.

They'd barely finished their first year aboard Helios, but this had been the worst week ever.

After gruelling back-to-back 12 hour shifts, department heads screaming deadlines and threats of untimely demises in their faces, Vaughn was ready to sleep for a month. He'd have to make do with a weekend, almost feeling sorry for his co-workers who'd been wrangled into piecing together the quarterly financials while he took a breather.

Reminding his best friend that, despite the shitty events of the past five days, they'd climbed at least a couple rungs of the corporate ladder, Rhys suggested a celebration was in order. Rather than sleep away the short reprieve, why not wash out the awful taste the past week left in their mouths with copious amounts of alcohol and video games?

Vaughn was instantly on board for some relaxing bro time, so long as he didn't need to look at a calculator or one more spreadsheet for the next 48 hours.

Along with enough snacks to feed a dozen people, the accountant amassed an impressive line-up of fighting and shooter games for the evening. Not to be outdone, his lanky counterpart returned to their shared living quarters with a colourful array of bottles clutched in his arms.

“ _Delectable Drakefruit Delight_? _Tangy Tongue Tingling Tonic_?” scoffed Vaughn, holding the labels up under his glasses. “Points for alliteration aside, these are some shitty sounding drinks, man.”

Emerging from his room in sweats and a loose fitting yellow tee, Rhys shrugged as he swiped the _Delectable Drakefruit Delight_ from his roommate's hand. “They were on sale,” he explained, popping off the cap with his robotic fingers. “Was going for quantity over quality. As much as I want to drink away the memory of all the assholes in my department, I didn't want to blow our entire rookie salary.”

Loaded with bottles and bowls, the roommates sank into the living room sofa to get the gaming marathon underway. The drinks were shockingly sweet, but after pulling a face after the first sip, Vaughn didn't care so long as it got him good and tipsy.

The snacks and liquor flowed freely as they shot holes in each other through several levels of _Dahl Head Hunter Brigade_. The temperature in the room seemed to have risen several degrees since they started, but Vaughn reminded himself that three bottles of _Bodacious Berry Blast_ were likely to blame for his flushed face and ears.

“Yeah! Take _that_!” Rhys hooted, waving his controller at Vaughn as he dropped the accountant’s commando character for the third time in a row.

Vaughn snorted and pushed his glasses up. His limbs felt slightly heavy from the liquor pumping through his body. “Lucky shot man, just wait, I’m gonna mess you up,” he fired back, draining a bottle of _Drakefruit Delight_ while his character re-spawned.

The two got progressively more foul mouthed and boisterous as the night wore on, shouting and cursing in mostly good natured fun. In the back of his alcohol hazy mind, Vaughn was thankful for the sturdy construction of the space station as it spared their neighbouring co-workers from their late night trash talking.

After a storm of clumsy button mashing, Vaughn got his revenge and ended Rhys’ character in particularly gruesome fashion. He dropped his controller theatrically and punched the air in triumph.

“A-HA! YEAH! Suck my DICK!” He yelled, drawing out the last word obnoxiously. Vaughn was good and drunk now, and revelled in the cozy warmth of carefree inebriation.

Rhys took a loud gulp from his drink and smacked it back onto the side table with a clatter. Grabbing the armrest, he heaved himself up off the couch, legs wobbling slightly as he got to his feet. Vaughn had turned his head to gloat some more but stopped, thinking Rhys was leaving in a huff over losing.

“Ah, c’mon dude, don’t be like th—“

Vaughn trailed off as Rhys dropped down to his hands and knees on the floor, upturning a bowl of pretzels a he crawled over the carpet.

“Whoa buddy, need some help getting up or — “

Apparently, Rhys did not need help getting up. Instead, he crawled between Vaughn’s spread legs, robotic and flesh hands running over his roommate's thighs.

Flabbergasted, Vaughn blinked dumbly as he watched Rhys start fumbling with the drawstring of his flannel pyjama pants. Had he passed out into some bizarre dream in his drunken stupor? He didn't think he'd drank that much.

“Uh, whatcha doing down there, Rhys?”

“Hmm?”

“I was just kidding, I mean when I said —“

Rhys’ fingers paused in their clumsy efforts to loosen Vaughn's pants. His cheeks and ears were flushed bright pink as he squinted up at his friend.

“Oh. Should I stop then?” Rhys asked, his tone conversational, as if he’d asked whether Vaughn wanted to order pizza or not.

Vaughn opened his mouth to answer but clamped his jaw shut. He searched for his glasses before realizing they were still on his nose. Everything was a bit fuzzy as he did his best to examine his friend.

“How drunk are you right now, bro?” Vaughn asked with concern. Rhys got the scrunched up look of someone asked to show their work for a difficult math equation. “On, like, a scale of what, exactly?” Rhys punctuated his question with a hiccup. “I’ve been way drunker than this — you’ve seen me drunker than this — but, yeah, I am _kinda_ drunk right now, but so are you? We’re - we’re probably the same level of drunk bro, that level of drunk,” he yammered on.

Vaughn swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. It was true that he had, on more than one occasion in their university days, helped carry an incapacitated Rhys home after a night out. From experience he knew it’d take a few more of these awful drinks to get the taller man to that point.

Still, there was no way in hell that Rhys was anywhere near sober. The empty bottles on the floor and side tables were too blurry to count right now but there were a fair few.

“You wanna do…this…because I yelled ‘suck my dick’ during the game?” Vaughn spoke slowly, trying not to slur his words with a tongue that felt too heavy for his mouth. As he spoke, his eyebrows arched further up his forehead at even the thought of something so stupid.

Rhys groaned in frustration, his face lolling forward so his nose brushed against the front of Vaughn’s pants. Vaughn’s dick, which had been ignoring this whole exchange, already semi-hard, twitched in interest under the light contact.

“Bro!” Rhys wobbled a bit as he lifted his head quickly to glare up at his friend, bottom lip stuck out in an almost comical pout. “If you don’t want me to suck your dick just say so!” Another hiccup squeaked out indignantly.

This was by far one of the strangest situations the accountant had found himself in. This was something that only happened on low budget ECHOnet vids that he would never admit to rarely-only-sometimes-every-now-and-then watching. He had no idea what had gotten into Rhys, aside from too much booze.

Still, they were both pleasantly buzzed, and if the matching tent in Rhys' pants was anything to go by…but would it make things weird between them? They'd been best buds for a long time, and he'd never really thought of Rhys _that_ way before. He couldn’t say he wasn’t interested now that they were in this position...

They were best bros, and really, what was a blow job between best bros?

“If, uh, if you want to, I mean, go for it? I guess?” Vaughn’s voice went up an octave, still in disbelief that this was happening, half convinced he really had slipped into some crazy wet dream.

A goofy smile spread across Rhys’ face and he gave a thumbs up with his robotic hand. “Yeah, bro! Don’t worry man, I’m really good at this,” he slurred as his fingers got back to untying the drawstring pants.

Rhys pulled the loosened waistband down just enough to free Vaughn’s erection, which bobbed slightly as it was freed from the fabric. Whetting his lips with a swipe of his tongue, Rhys tilted his head to suck on the underside of his friend’s cock. Amber and azure eyes peered up as Vaughn watched Rhys kiss a trail up, tonguing the slit lightly before he slipped the head into his mouth.

Vaughn groaned as wet heat enveloped him. He decided this felt way too good to be a dream, and it had been a really long time since anyone had given him this kind of attention. He willed his body to hold on for at least a respectable amount of time.

Pleasure bloomed through the fog of alcohol as Rhys took him in inch by inch, pink lips tight and slick around his shaft. _Oh god,_ Vaughn thought, groaning as Rhys hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard and taking up a torturously slow pace. He hadn’t been kidding, and Vaughn resisted the urge to thrust up into Rhys’ mouth as his friend gave him one of the best blow jobs he’d ever experienced.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Vaughn cursed under his breath, his skin tingling and his heart pounding as release crept ever closer. Rhys giggled drunkenly, sending vibrations along the length in his mouth. Vaughn’s knuckles were nearly white as he dug his fingers into the couch cushions.

Rhys quickened his pace, eyes fluttering closed, his flesh hand snaking down into his own pants. Vaughn watched Rhys' movements, captivated, as his mouth stretched around him, obscene wet noises escaping as he glided over his cock, his hand jerking himself off at the same time.

A small part of Vaughn was impressed his drunk friend had the co-ordination to multi-task, but mostly he felt his skin humming with sensation as the familiar tension built within him.

“Rhys…Rhys I’m gonna…gonna…” Vaughn gasped, barely able to hear his own words as his heart hammered in his chest. Pinpricks of colour burst across his vision as orgasm washed over him. Rhys moaned as come splashed down his throat, his body going rigid as he hit his own peak, swallowing everything his roommate gave him.

Shuddering, Vaughn threaded his fingers through Rhys’ hair. Giving one last gentle suckle, Rhys let the softening length slip from his lips, a trail of saliva dribbling down his chin. A blissed out expression on his face, Rhys rested his cheek against Vaughn's thigh.

As the afterglow slowly faded, Vaughn self-consciously tucked himself back into his pyjama bottoms. Rhys seemed about ready to fall asleep, hand still in his pants as he rested his head in Vaughn’s lap, eyelids drooping.

“Uh, Rhys?”

“Hmm?”

Vaughn wasn’t sure how to continue. It felt wrong to try pretending that hadn’t just happened, but the sluggishness of alcohol and orgasm made it hard to form words. Maybe it was irresponsible, but any conversation about this would need to wait until he was sober.

“Want some ice cream?”

Rhys yawned, nodding as he withdrew his hand from his pants. Vaughn made a face as he watched his roommate wipe his fingers on his sweats. “Gross, man.”

"Laundry day tomorrow, I'll live," Rhys mumbled back, his nostrils flaring slightly as he tried to suppress another yawn.

They stumbled to the kitchen. Vaughn grabbed the last two clean spoons from the drawer as Rhys poked his head into the freezer. "Did you eat all the chocolate?" Rhys asked suspiciously, his voice somewhat muffled behind the freezer door.

Vaughn rolled his eyes. "You have extra hidden under that bag of Veggie Medley in the back, don't think I don't know." Emerging with the secret ice cream stash and demanding his roommate compensate him with another tub, Rhys set the container on the counter. Vaughn handed him a spoon and they dug in, jabbing the still rock hard dessert impatiently.

"We should have ordered pizza or something," Rhys mumbled thoughtfully around a spoonful.

"We still could," Vaughn answered, checking his watch. "That place on level 43 delivers for another forty minutes."

Rhys licked off his spoon, pointing it at Vaughn accusingly. "I will accept pizza as your apology for eating my ice cream."

Vaughn made an indignant noise. "You _have_ ice cream, dude."

"You made me whip out the emergency chocolate, bro. Pizza for ice cream, fair trade."

Vaughn groaned in frustration. "Fine."

As they finalized their order and Vaughn dialled up the pizza place, he breathed a silent sigh of relief. Sure, they were still kind of drunk, and maybe they should have a talk or something after tomorrow's inevitable hangovers wore off, but they were still the best of bros.  
  
And what was a little blow job or two between the broest of bros.


End file.
